Mark was knocked cold at the Thanksgiving Day Football game last year.Mark's hand and arm had looked like that--he had held his fingers likethat--when they picked him up. Mark had the base-ball hand! Of coursethat rich guy might have been an athlete too, they were sometimes. Andof course Mark was right now at home and in bed, where Billy wished hewas also, but somehow the memory of that still dark "knocked cold"attitude, and that hanging hand and arm would not leave him. He frownedin the dark and wished this business was over. Mark was the only livingsoul Billy felt he could ever tell about this night's escapade, and hewasn't sure he could tell him, but he knew if he did that Mark wouldunderstand.

Billy watched anxiously for a streak of light in the East, but none hadcome as yet. The moon had left the earth darker than darkness when itwent.

He tried to think what he should do. His bicycle was lying in thebushes and he ought to get it before daylight. If they went near thestation he would drop off and pick it up. Then he would scuttle throughthe woods and get to the Crossroads, and beat it down to the Blue DuckTavern. That was the only place open all night where he couldtelephone. He didn't like to go to the Blue Duck Tavern on account ofhis aunt. She had once made him promise most solemnly, bringing insomething about his dead mother, that he would never go to the BlueDuck Tavern. But this was a case of necessity, and dead mothers, ifthey cared at all, ought to understand. He had a deep underlying faithin the principle of what a mother--at any rate a dead mother--would belike. And anyhow, this wasn't the kind of "going" to the Tavern hisaunt had meant. He was keeping the spirit of the promise if not theletter. In his code the spirit meant much more than the letter--atleast on this occasion. There were often times when he rigidly adheredto the letter and let the spirit take care of itself, but this was notone.

But if, on the other hand they did not take Pat all the way back to thecrossing by the station it would be even better for him, for the roadon which they now were passed within a quarter of a mile of the BlueDuck Tavern, and he could easily beat the car to the state line, bydropping off and running.

But suddenly and without warning it became apparent that Pat was to belet out to walk to the station crossing, and Billy had only a second todecide what to do, while Pat lumbered swearing down from the car. If hegot off now he would have to wait till Pat was far ahead before hedared go after his wheel, and he would lose so much time there would beno use in trying to save the car. On the other hand if he stayed on thecar he was liable to be seen by Pat, and perhaps caught. However, thisseemed the only possible way to keep the car from destruction and loss,so he wriggled himself into his seat more firmly, tucked his legspainfully up under him, covered his face with his cap, and hid hishands in his pockets.

"You've plenty of time," raged Pat, "You've only a little five milesrun left. It's a good half hour before light. You're a pair of cowards,that's whut ye are, and so I'll tell Sam. If I get fired fer not beingthere fer the early milk train, there'll be no more fat jobs fer youse.Now be sure ye do as you're told. Leave the car in the first fieldbeyond the woods after ye cross the state line, lift yer flash lightand wink three times, count three slow, and wink three times more._Then beat it!_ And doncha ferget to go feed that guy! We don'twant he should die on us."

The engine began to mutter. Pat with a farewell string of oaths rolledoff down the road, too sleepy to look behind, and Billy held his breathand ducked low till the rolling Pat was one with the deep gray of themorning.

The first streak of light was beginning to show in the East, and theall-night revellers at the Blue Duck were in the last stages of goinghome after a more than usually exciting season, when Billy like thehardened promise-breaker he felt himself to be, boldly slid in at thedoor and disappeared inside the telephone booth behind the last row oftables in the corner. For leave it to a boy, even though he be not afrequenter of a place, to know where everything needful is to be found!

He had to wait several minutes to get the Chief of Police in Economy,and while he waited two gaunt habitues of the Tavern slid into seats atthe table to the left of the booth, ordered drinks and began to discusssomething in a low tone. Billy paid no heed till he happened to hearhis friend's name:

"Yep, I seen Mark come in with Cherry early in the evening. He setright over there and gotter some drink. The girl was mad because hewouldn't get her what she wanted to drink. I happened to be settin'direckly in front and I heard her gassin' about it. She tossed her headand made her eyes look little and ugly like a pig, and once she got upto go, and he grabbed her hands and made her set down; and just setthere fer sometime alookin' at her hard an' holdin' her han's andchewin' the rag at her. I don't know what all they was sayin,' fer hetalked mighty low, an' Ike called me to take a hand in the game overtother side the room, so I didn't know no more till I see him an'Cherry beatin' it out the side door, an' Dolphin standin' over acrostby the desk lampin' 'em with his ugly look, an' pretty quick, Dolph heslid out the other door an' was gone quite some time. When he come backCherry was with him, laughin' and makin' eyes, and vampin' away likeshe always does, an' him an' her danced a lot after that--"

A voice on the end of the wire broke in upon this amazing conversation,and Billy with difficulty adjusted his jaded mind, to the matter inhand:

"'Z'is the Chief? Say, Chief, a coupla guys stole a machine--Holes-Mowbrays--license number 6362656-W--Got that? New York tag.They're on their way over to the State Line beyond the Cross Roads.They're gonta run her in the field just beyond the woods, you know.They're gonta give a flash light signal to their pal, three winks, countthree slow, and three winks more, and then beat it. Then some guy isgonta wreck the machine. It's up to you and your men to hold themachine till I get the owner there. He don't know it's pinched yet,but I know where to find him, an' he'll have the license and canidentify it. Where'll I find you? Station House? 'Conomy? Sure! I'llbe there soon's I get'im. What's that? I? Oh, I'm just a kid thathappened to get wise. My name? Oh rats! That don't cut any ice now!You get on yer job! They must be almost there by now. I gotta beatit! Gub-bye!"

Billy was all there even if he had been up all night. He hung up with aclick, for he was anxious to hear what the men were saying. They hadfinished their glasses and were preparing to leave. The old one wasgabbling on in a querrilous gossipy tone:

"Well, it'll go hard with Mark Carter if the man dies. Everybody knowshe was here, and unless he can prove an alibi--!"

They were crawling reluctantly out of their haunts now, and Billy couldcatch but one more sentence:

"Well, I'm sorry fer his ma. I used to go to school with Mrs. Carterwhen we were kids."

They were gone out and the room suddenly showed empty. The waiter wasfastening the shutters. In a moment more he would be locked in. Billymade a silent dash among the tables and slid out the door while thewaiter's back was turned. The two men were ambling slowly down the roadtoward Economy. Billy started on a dead run. His rubber soled shoesmade no echo and he was too light on his feet to make a thud. Hedisappeared into the grayness like a spirit. He had more cause thanever now for hurry. Mark! Mark! His beloved Mark Carter! What must hedo about it? Must he tell Mark? Or did Mark perhaps know? What hadhappened anyway? There had evidently been a shooting. That CherryFenner was mixed up in it. Billy knew her only by sight. She alwaysgrinned at him and said: "Hello, Billee!" in her pretty dimpled way. Hedidn't care for her himself. He had accepted her as a part of life, anecessary evil. She wore her hair queer, and had very short tightskirts, and high heels. She painted her face and vamped, but that washer affair. He had heretofore tolerated her because she seemed in someway to be under Mark Carter's recent protection. Therefore he hadgrowled "Ello!" grimly whenever she accosted him and let it go at that.If it had come to a show down he would have stood up for her because heknew that Mark would, that was all. Mark knew his own business. Far beit from Billy to criticize his hero's reasons. Perhaps it was one ofMark's weaknesses. It was up to him. That was the code of a "white man"as Billy had learned it from "the fellas."

But this was a different matter. This involved Mark's honor. It was upto him to find Mark!

Billy did not take the High road down from his detour. He cut acrossbelow the Crossroads, over rough ground, among the underbrush, andparting the low growing trees was lost in the gloom of the woods. Buthe knew every inch of ground within twenty miles around, and darknessdid not take away his sense of direction. He crashed along among thebranches, making steady headway toward the spot where he had left hisbicycle, puffing and panting, his face streaked with dirt, his eyesbleared and haggard, his whole lithe young body straining forward andfighting against the dire weariness that was upon him, for it was notoften that he stayed up all night. Aunt Saxon saw to that much atleast.

The sky was growing rosy now, and he could hear the rumbling of themilk train. It was late. Pat would not lose his job this time, for hemust have had plenty of time to get back to the station. Billy wormedhimself under cover as the train approached, and bided his time.Cautiously, peering from behind the huckleberry growth, he watched Patslamming the milk cans around. He could see his bicycle lying like adark skeleton of a thing against the gravel bank. It was lucky he gotthere before day, for Pat would have been sure to see it, and it mighthave given him an idea that Billy had gone with the automobile.

The milk train came suddenly in sight through the tunnel, like alighted thread going through a needle. It rumbled up to the station.There was a rattling of milk cans, empty ones being put on, full cansbeing put off, grumbling of Pat at the train hands, loud retorts of thetrain hands, the engine puffed and wheezed like a fat old lady goingupstairs and stopping on every landing to rest. Then slamming of cardoors, a whistle, the snort of the engine as it took up its way againout toward the rosy sky, its headlight weird like a sick candle againstthe dawn, its tail light winking with a leer and mocking at themountains as it clattered away like a row of gray ducks lifting webbedfeet and flinging back space to the station.

Pat rolled the loaded truck to the other platform ready for the Laketrain at seven, and went in to a much needed rest. He slammed the doorwith a finality that gave Billy relief. The boy waited a moment more inthe gathering dawn, and then made a dash for the open, salvaging hisbicycle, and diving back into the undergrowth.

For a quarter of a mile he and the wheel like two comrades raced underbranches, and threaded their way between trees. Then he came out intothe Highroad and mounting his wheel rode into the world just as the sunshot up and touched the day with wonder.

He rode into the silent sleeping village of Sabbath Valley just as thebells from the church chimed out gently, as bells should do on aSabbath morning when people are at rest, "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!"

Sabbath Valley looked great as he pedalled silently down the street.Even the old squeak of the back wheel seemed to be holding its breathfor the occasion.

He coasted past the church and down the gentle incline in front of theparsonage and Joneses, and the Littles and Browns and Gibsons. Like ashadow of the night passing he slid past the Fowlers and Tiptons andDuncannons, and fastened his eyes on the little white fence with thewhite pillared gate where Mrs. Carter lived. Was that a light in thekitchen window? And the barn that Mark used for his garage when he wasat home, was the door open? He couldn't quite see for the cyringa bushhid it from the road. With a furtive glance up and down the street hewheeled in at the driveway, and rode up under the shadow of the greenshuttered white house.

He dismounted silently, stealthily, rested his wheel against the trunkof a cherry tree, and with keen eyes for every window, glanced up tothe open one above which he knew belonged to Mark's room. Strong grimyfingers went to his lips and a low cautious whistle, more like a birdcall issued forth, musical as any wild note.

The white muslin curtains wavered back and forth in the summer breeze,and for a moment he thought a head was about to appear for a softstirring noise had seemed to move within the house somewhere, but thecurtains swayed on and no Mark appeared. Then he suddenly was aware ofa white face confronting him at the downstairs window directly oppositeto him, white and scared and--was it accusing? And suddenly he began totremble. Not all the events of the night had made him tremble, but nowhe trembled, it was Mark's mother, and she had pink rims to her eyes,and little damp crimples around her mouth and eyes for all the worldlike Aunt Saxon's. She looked--she looked exactly as though she had notslept all night. Her nose was thin and red, and her eyes had that awfulblue that eyes get that have been much washed with tears. The softwaves of her hair drooped thinly, and the coil behind showed morethreads of silver than of brown in the morning sun that shot throughthe branches of the cherry tree. She had a frightened look, as if Billyhad brought some awful news, or as if it was his fault, he could nottell which, and he began to feel that choking sensation and thatgoneness in the pit of his stomach that Aunt Saxon always gave him whenshe looked frightened at something he had done or was going to do.Added to this was that sudden premonition, and a memory of thatdrooping still figure in the dark up on the mountain.

Mrs. Carter sat down the candle on a shelf and raised the window:

"Is that you Billy?" she asked, and there were tears in her voice.

Billy had a brief appalling revelation of Mothers the world over. Didall Mothers--women--act like that when they were _fools_? Fools iswhat he called them in his mind. Yet in spite of himself and his rageand trembling he felt a sudden tenderness for this crumply, tired,ghastly little pink rimmed mother, apprehensive of the worst as wasplain to see. Billy recalled like a flash the old man at the Blue Ducksaying, "I'm sorry for his ma. I used to go to school with her." Helooked at the faded face with the pink rims and trembling lips and hada vision of a brown haired little girl at a desk, and old Si Appleby ateasing boy in the desk opposite. It came over him that some day hewould be an old man somewhere telling how he went to school--! And thenhe asked:

"Where's Mark? Up yet?"

She shook her head apprehensively, withholdingly.

Billy had a thought that perhaps some one had beat him to it with newsfrom the Blue Duck, but he put it from him. There were tears in hereyes and one was straggling down between the crimples of her cheekswhere it looked as if she had lain on the folds of her handkerchief allnight. There came a new tenderness in his voice. This was _Mark's_mother, and this was the way she felt. Well, of course it was silly,but she was Mark's _mother_.

"Man up the mountain had n'accident. I thought Mark ud he'p. He alwaysdoes," explained Billy awkwardly with a feeling that he ought toaccount for his early visit.

"Yes, of course, Mark would like to help!" purred his mother comfortedat the very thought of every day life and Mark going about as usual,"But--" and the apprehension flew into her eyes again, "He isn't home.Billy, he hasn't come home at all last night! I'm frightened to death!I've sat up all night! I can't think what's happened--! There's so manyhold-ups and Mark will carry his money loose in his trousers pocket--!"

Billy blanched but lied beautifully up to the occasion even as he wouldhave liked to have somebody lie for him to Aunt Saxon:

"Aw! That's nothing! Doncha worry. He tol' me he might have t'stay downt'Unity all night. There's a fella down there that likes him a lot, an'they had somekinduva blowout in their church last night. He mightuv hadta take some girl home out of town ya know, and stayed over with thefella."

"Oh, thank you Billy," her face wreathed in wavering smiles broughtanother thought of school days and life and how queer it was that grownfolks had been children sometime and children had to be grown folks.

"Billy, Mark likes you very much. I'm sure he won't mind your knowingthat I'm worried, but you know how boys don't like to have theirmothers worry, so you needn't say anything to Mark that I said I wasworried, need you? You understand Billy. I'm not _really_ worriedyou know. Mark was always a good boy."

"Aw sure!" said Billy with a knowing wink. "He's a prince! You leave itt'me, Mizz Carter!"

"Thank you, Billy. I'll do something for you sometime. But how's itcome you're up so early? You haven't had your breakfast yet have you?"

She eyed his weary young face with a motherly anxiety:

"Naw, I didn't have no time to stop fer breakfast," Billy spokeimportantly, "Got this call about the sick guy and had to beat it. Say,you don't happen to know Mark's license number do you? It might help alot, savin' time 'f'I could tell his car at sight. Save stoppin' toast."

"Well, now, I don't really--" said the woman ruminatively, "let me see.There was six and six, there were a lot of sixes if I remember--"

She vanished, and he realized for the first time that he was hungry.Cookies sounded good.

She returned with a brimming glass of milk and a plate of cookies. Shestuffed the cookies in his pockets, while he drank the milk.

"Say,--" said he after a long sweet draught of the foaming milk, "Ya,aint got enny more you cud spare fer that sick guy, have ya? Wait, I'llsave this. Got a bottle?"

"Indeed you won't, Billy Gaston. You just drink that every drop. I'llget you another bottle to take with you. I got extra last night 'countof Mark being home, and then he didn't drink it. He always likes adrink of milk last thing before he goes to bed."

She vanished and returned with a quart of milk cold off the ice. Shewrapped it well with newspapers, and Billy packed it safely into thelittle basket on his wheel. Then he bethought him of another need.

She nodded and he vanished into the open barn door. Well he knew whereMark kept his tools. He picked out a small pointed saw, a neat littleauger and a file and stowed them hurriedly under the milk bottle. Thusreinforced without and within, he mounted his faithful steed and spedaway to the hills.

The morning sun had shot up several degrees during his delay, andSabbath Valley lay like a thing new born in its glory. On the belfry apurple dove sat glistening, green and gold ripples on her neck, turningher head proudly from side to side as Billy rode by, and when he toppedthe first hill across the valley the bells rang out six sweet strokesas if to remind him that Sunday School was not far off and he musthurry back. But Billy was trying to think how he should get into thatlocked house, and wondering whether the kidnappers would have returnedto feed their captive yet. He realized that he must be wary, althoughhis instinct told him that they would wait for dark, besides, he hadhopes that they might have been "pinched."

Nevertheless he approached the old house cautiously, skirting themountain to avoid Pleasant Valley, and walking a mile or two throughthick undergrowth, sometimes with difficulty propelling the faithfulmachine.

Arrived in sight he studied the surroundings carefully, harbored hiswheel where it would not be discovered and was yet easily available,and after reconnoitering stole out of covert.

The house stood gaunt and grim against the smiling morning. Itsshuttered windows giving an expression of blindness or the repellantmask of death. A dead house, that was what it was. Its doors andwindows closed on the tragedy that had been enacted within its massivestone walls. It seemed more like a fortress than a house where warmhuman faces had once looked forth, and where laughter and pleasantwords had once sounded out. To pass it had always stirred a sense ofmystery and weirdness. To approach it thus with the intention ofentering to find that still limp figure of a man gave a mostoverpowering sense of awe. Billy looked up with wide eyes, the deepshadows under them standing out in the clear light of the morning andgiving him a strangely old aspect as if he had jumped over at least tenyears during the night. Warily he circled the house, keeping close tothe shrubbery at first and listening as a squirrel might have done,then gradually drawing nearer. He noticed that the down stairs shutterswere solid iron with a little half moon peep hole at the top. Thoseupstairs were solid below and fitted with slats above, but the slatswere closed of all the front windows, and all but two of the back ones,which were turned upward so that one could not see the glass. Thedoors, both back and front, were locked, and unshakable, of solid oakand very thick. A Yale lock with a new look gave all entrance at thefront an impossible look. The back door was equally impregnable unlesshe set to work with his auger and saw and took out a heavy oak panel.

He got down to the ground and began to examine the cellar windows. Theyseemed to be fitted with iron bars set into the solid masonry. He wentall around the house and found each one unshakable, until he reachedthe last at the back. There he found a bit of stone cracked andloosened and it gave him an idea. He set to work with his few tools,and finally succeeded in loosening one rusted bar. He was much hinderedin his work by the necessity of keeping a constant watch out, and byhis attempts to be quiet. There was no telling when Link and Shortymight come to feed their captive and he must not be discovered.

It was slow work picking away at the stone, filing away at the rustyiron, but the bars were so close together that three must be removedbefore he could hope to crawl through, and even then he might be ableto get no further than the cellar. The guy that fixed this house up fora prison knew what he was about.

Faintly across the mountains came the echo of bells, or were they inthe boy's own soul? He worked away in the hot sun, the perspirationrolling down his weary dirty face, and sometimes his soul faintedwithin him. Bells, and the sweet quiet church with the pleasant dailyfaces about and the hum of Sunday School beginning! How far away thatall seemed to him now as he filed and picked, and sweated, and kept upa strange something in his soul half yearning, half fierce dread, thatmight have been like praying only the burden of its yearning seemed tobe expressed in but a single word, "Mark! Mark!"

At last the third bar came loose and with a great sigh that was almostlike a sob, the boy tore it out, and cleared the way. Then carefullygathering his effects, tools, milk bottle and cap together, he let themdown into the dungeon-like blackness of the cellar, and crept in afterthem, taking the precaution to set up in place the iron bars once moreand leave no trace of his entrance.

Pausing cautiously to listen he ventured to strike a match, mentallybelaboring himself at the wasteful way in which he had always used hisflash light which was now so much needed and out of commission. Thecellar was large, running under the whole house, with heavy rafters andlooming coal pits. A scurrying rat started a few lumps of coal in theslide, and a cobwebby rope hung ominously from one cross beam, givinghim a passing shudder. It seemed as if the spirit of the past hadarisen to challenge his entrance thus. He took a few steps forwardtoward a dim staircase he sighted at the farther end, and then a suddennoise sent his heart beating fast. He extinguished the match and stoodin the darkness listening with straining ears. That was surely a stephe heard on the floor above!

VII

Laurence Shafton awoke late to the sound of church bells come alive andsinging hymn tunes. There was something strangely unreal in the sound,in the utter stillness of the background of Sabbath Valley atmospherethat made him think, almost, just for an instant, that he had stumbledsomehow into the wrong end of the other world, and come into the fieldsof the blessed. Not that he had any very definite idea about what thefields of the blessed would look like or what would be going on there,but there was something still and holy between the voices of the bellsthat fairly compelled his jaded young soul to sit up and listen.

But at the first attempt to sit up a very sharp very decided twinge ofpain caught him, and brought an assorted list of words which he keptfor such occasions to his lips. Then he looked around and tried to takein the situation. It was almost as if he had been caught out of his ownworld and dropped into another universe, so different was everythinghere, and so little did he remember the happenings of the night before.He had had trouble with his car, something infernal that had preventedhis going farther--he recalled having to get out and push the thingalong the road, and then two loutish men who made game of him and senthim here to get his car fixed. There had been a man, a queer man whogave him bread and butter instead of wine--he remembered that--and hehad failed to get his car fixed, but how the deuce did he get landed onthis couch with a world of books about him and a thin muslin curtainblowing into the room, and fanning the cheeks of a lovely rose in along stemmed clear glass vase? Did he try to start and have a smash up?No, he remembered going down the steps with the intention of starting,but stay! Now it was coming to him. He fell off the porch! He must havehad a jag on or he never would have fallen. He did things to his anklein falling. He remembered the gentle giant picking him up as if he hadbeen a baby and putting him here, but where was _here_? Ah! Now heremembered! He was on his way to Opal Verrons. A bet. An elopement forthe prize! Great stakes. He had lost of course. What a fool! If ithadn't been for his ankle he might have got to a trolley car or trainsomehow and made a garage. Money would have taken him there in time. Hewas vexed that he had lost. It would have been great fun, and he hadthe name of always winning when he set out to do so. But then, perhapsit was just as well--Verrons was a good fellow as men went--he likedhim, and he was plain out and out fond of Opal just at present. Itwould have been a dirty shame to play the trick behind his back. Still,if Opal wanted to run away with him it was up to him to run of course.Opal was rare sport and he couldn't stand the idea of Smart-AleckMcMarter, or that conceited Percy Emerson getting there first. Hewondered which had won. It made his fury rise to think of either, andhe had promised the lady neither of them should. What was she thinkingof him by now that he had sent her no word of his delay? That wasinexcusable. He must attend to it at once.

He glanced around the pleasant room. Yes, there on the desk was atelephone! Could he get to it? He sat up and painfully edged his wayover to the desk.

"Safely through another week, God has brought us on our way--"

chimed the bells,

"Let us now a blessing seek, Waiting in His courts to-day--"

But Laurie Shafton had never sung those words in his life and had noidea what the bells were seeking to get across to him. He took down thereceiver and called for Long Distance.

"Oh day of rest and gladness!"

pealed out the bells joyously,

"Oh day of joy and light! Oh balm for care and sadness, Most beautiful, most bright--"

But it meant nothing to Laurie Shafton seeking a hotel in a fashionableresort. And when he finally got his number it was only Opal's maid whoanswered.

"Yes, Mrs. Verrons was up. She was out walking on the beach with agentleman. No, it was not Mr. Emerson, nor yet Mr. McMarter. Neither ofthose gentlemen had arrived. No, it was not Mr. Verrons. He had justtelegraphed that he would not be at the hotel until tomorrow night.Yes, she would tell Mrs. Verrons that he had met with an accident. Mrs.Verrons would be very sorry. Number one-W Sabbath Valley. Yes, shewould write it down. What? Oh! The gentleman Mrs. Verrons was walkingwith? No, it was not anybody that had been stopping at the hotel forlong, it was a new gentleman who had just come the night before. Shehadn't heard his name yet. Yes, she would be sure to tell Mrs. Verronsat once when she came in, and Mrs. Verrons would be likely to call himup!"

He hung up the receiver and looked around the room discontentedly. Astinging twinge of his ankle added to his discomfort. He gave an angrysnarl and pushed the wavering curtain aside, wishing those everlastingbells would stop their banging.

Across the velvet stretch of lawn the stone church nestled among thetrees, with a background of mountains, and a studding of whitegravestones beyond its wide front steps. It was astonishinglybeautiful, and startlingly close for a church. He had not been so nearto a church except for a wedding in all his young life. Dandy place fora wedding that would be, canopy over the broad walk from the street,charming architecture, he liked the line of the arched belfry and theslender spire above. The rough stone fitted well into the scenery. Thechurch seemed to be a thing of the ages placed there by Nature. Hismind trained to detect a sense of beauty in garments, rugs, pictures,and women, appreciated the picture on which he was gazing. Where wasthis anyway? Surely not the place with the absurd name that heremembered now on the mountain Detour. Sabbath Valley! How ridiculous!It must be the home of some wealthy estate, and yet there seemed arustic loveliness about it that scarcely established that theory.

The bells had ceased. He heard the roll of a deep throated organskillfully played.

And now, his attention was suddenly attracted to the open window of thechurch where framed in English ivy a lovely girl sat at the organ. Shewas dressed in white with hair of gold, and a golden window somewhereback of her across the church, made a background of beaten gold againstwhich her delicate profile was set like some young saint. Her whitefingers moving among the keys, and gradually he came to realize that itwas she who had been playing the bells.

He stared and stared, filled with admiration, thrilled with this newexperience in his blase existence. Who would have expected to find abeauty like that in a little out of the way place like this? His theoryof a great estate and a rich man's daughter with a fad for musicinstantly came to the front. What a lucky happening that he should havebroken down close to this church. He would find out who the girl wasand work it to get invited up to her house. Perhaps he was a fortunateloser of his bet after all.

As he watched the girl playing gradually the music entered hisconsciousness. He was fond of music, and had heard the best of theworld of course. This was meltingly lovely. The girl had fineappreciation and much expression, even when the medium of her melodywas clumsy things like bells. She had seemed to make them glad as theypealed out their melodies. He had not known bells could sound likehappy children, or like birds.

His meditations were interrupted by a tap on the door, followed by theentrance of his host bearing a tray:

"Good-morning," he said pleasantly, "I see you're up. How is thesprain? Better? Would you like me to dress it again?"

He came over to the desk and set down the tray on which was beautifullybrown buttered toast, eggs and coffee:

"I've brought you just a bite. It's so late you won't want much, for wehave dinner immediately after church. I suppose you wouldn't feel likegoing over to the service?"

"Service?" the young man drawled almost insolently.

"Yes, service is at eleven. Would you care to go over? I could assistyou."

"Naw, I shouldn't care to go," he answered rudely, "I'm pulling out ofhere as soon as I can get that machine of mine running. By the way,I've been doing some telephoning"--he slung a ten dollar note on thedesk. "I didn't ask how much it was, guess that'll cover it. Now, helpme to the big chair and I'll sample your breakfast."

The minister picked up the young man easily and placed him in the bigchair before the guest realized what was doing, and then turned andtook the ten dollar bill between his thumb and finger and flipped itdown in the young man's lap.

"Keep it," he said briefly, "It's of no consequence." "But it was longdistance," explained the guest loftily, "It'll be quite a sum. I talkedovertime."

"No matter," said the minister pulling out a drawer of the desk andgathering a few papers and his Bible. "Now, would you like me to lookat that ankle before I go, or will you wait for the doctor? He's likelyto be back before long, and I've left a call for him."

"I'll wait for the doctor," the young man's tone approached theinsolent note again, "and by the way, I wish you'd send for amechanician. I've got to get that car running."

"I'm sorry," said Severn, "I'm afraid you'll have to wait. The only onein this region that would be at all likely to help you out with thosebearings is Carter. He has a car, or had one, of that make. He mighthappen to have some bearings, but it is not at all likely. Or, he couldtow you ten miles to Monopoly. But Carter is not at home yet."

The young man fairly frothed at the mouth: "Do you mean to tell me thatthere is no one can mend a broken machine around this forsaken dump?Where's your nearest garage? Send for a man to come at once. I'mwilling to pay anything," he flourished a handful of bills.

The minister looked at his watch anxiously: "I'm sorry," he said again,"I've got to go to the service now. There is a garage at Monopoly andtheir number is 97-M. You can phone them if you are not satisfied. Itried them quite early this morning while you were still sleeping, butthere was nothing doing. The truth is the people around this region area little prejudiced against working seven days out of the week,although they will help a man out in a case like yours when they can,but it seems the repair man, the only one who knows about bearings, hasgone fifty miles in another direction to a funeral and won't be backtill to-morrow morning. Now, if you're quite comfortable I'll have toleave you for a little while. It is time for my service to begin."

The young man looked at his host with astonishment. He was not used tobeing treated in this off-hand way. He could hardly believe his ears.Throw back his money and lay down the law that way!

"Wait!" he thundered as the door was about to close upon the departingminister.

Severn turned and regarded his guest quietly, questioningly:

"Who's that girl over there in the window playing the organ?" He pulledthe curtain aside and revealed a glimpse of the white and gold saintframed in the ivy. Severn gave a swift cold glance at the insolentyouth and then answered with a slightly haughty note in his courteousvoice, albeit a quiver of amusement on his lip:

"That is my daughter."

Laurence Shafton dropped the curtain and turned to stare at his host,but the minister had closed the door and was already on his way tochurch. Then the youth pulled back the curtain again and regarded thelady. The man's daughter! And playing like that!

The rich notes of the organ were rolling out into the summer day, awonderful theme from an old master, grandly played. Yes, she couldplay. She had been well taught. And the looks of her! She was wonderfulat this distance. Were these then wealthy people perhaps summering inthis quiet resort? He glanced about at the simple furnishings. That wasa good rug at his feet, worn in places, but soft in tone andunmistakably of the Orient. The desk was of fumed oak, somewhat massiveand dignified with a touch of hand carving. The chairs were of the samedark oak with leather cushions, and the couch so covered by his beddrapery that he could not see it, but he remembered its comfort. Therewas nothing showy or expensive looking but everything simple and good.One or two fine old pictures on the wall gave evidence of good taste.The only luxury seemed books, rows and rows of them behind glass doorsin cases built into the wall. They lined each space between windows anddoors, and in several spots reached to the ceiling. He decided thatthese people must have had money and lost it. These things were old andhad perhaps been inherited. But the girl! She teased his curiosity. Sheseemed of a type entirely new, and most attractive. Well, here was goodluck again! He would stay till church was out and see what she might belike at nearer view. It might amuse him to play the invalid for a dayor two and investigate her. Meantime, he must call up that garage andsee what could be done for the car. If he could get it patched up bynoon he might take the girl out for a spin in the afternoon. One couldjudge a girl much better getting her off by herself that way. He didn'tseem to relish the memory of that father's smile and haughty tone as hesaid "My daughter." Probably was all kinds of fussy about her. But ifthe girl had any pep at all she surely would enjoy getting away fromoversight for a few hours. He hoped Opal would call before they gotback from their service. It might be awkward talking with them allaround.

But the organ was suddenly drowned in a burst of song:

"Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be--world without end, Amen!"

Somehow the words struck him with a strange awe, they were so distinct,and almost in the room with him. He looked about half feeling that theroom was filled with people, and felt curiously alone. There was anatmosphere in the little house of everybody being gone to church. Theyhad all gone and left him alone. It amused him. He wondered about thisodd family who seemed to be under the domination of a church service.They had left him a stranger alone in their house. The doors andwindows were all open. How did they know but he was a burglar?

Some one was talking now. It sounded like the voice of his host. Itmight be a prayer. How peculiar! He must be a preacher. Yet he had beensent to him to fix his car. He did not look like a laboring man. Helooked as if he might be,--well almost anything--even a gentleman. Butif he was a clergyman, why, that of course explained the ascetic type,the nun-like profile of the girl, the skilled musician. Clergymen wereapt to educate their children, even without much money. The girl wouldprobably be a prude and bore, but there was a chance that she might bea princess in disguise and need a prince to show her a good time. Hewould take the chance at least until after dinner.

So he ate his delicate toast, and drank his delicious coffee, andwished he had asked that queer man to have his flask filled at the drugstore before he went to his old service, but consoled himself withnumerous cigarettes, while he watched the face of the musician, andlistened idly to the music.

It was plain that the young organist was also the choir leader, for herexpressive face was turned toward the singers, and her lovely head kepttime. Now and then a motion of the hand seemed to give a direction orwarning. And the choir too sang with great sweetness and expression.They were well trained. But what a bore such a life must be to a girl.Still, if she had never known anything else--! Well, he would like tosee her at closer range. He lit another cigarette and studied herprofile as she slipped out of the organ bench and settled herselfnearer the window. He could hear the man's voice reading now. Some ofthe words drew his idle attention:

"All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes; but the Lord weigheth the spirits."

Curious sentence that! It caught in his brain. It seemed rather true.From the Bible probably of course, though he was not very familiar withthat volume, never having been obliged to go to Sunday School in hischildhood days? But was it true? Were all a man's ways clean in his owneyes? Take, for instance, his own ways? He always did about as hepleased, and he had never asked himself whether his ways were clean ornot. He hadn't particularly cared. He supposed some people would thinkthey were not--but in his own eyes, well--was he clean? Take forinstance this expedition of his? Running a race to get another man'swife,--an alleged friend's wife, too? It did seem rather despicablewhen one thought of it after the jag was off. But then one was notquite responsible for what one did with a jag on, and what the deucedid the Lord have to do with it anyway? How could the Lord weigh thespirit? That meant of course that he saw through all subterfuges. Well,what of it?

Another sentence caught his ear:

"When a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him."

How odd, the Lord,--if there was a Lord, he had never thought muchabout it--but how odd, if there was a Lord for Him to care about aman's ways. If he were Lord he wouldn't care, he'd only want them tokeep out of his way. He would probably crush them like ants, if he wereLord. But the Lord--taking any notice of men's ways, and being pleasedby them and looking out to protect him from enemies! It certainly wasquaint--a quaint idea! He glanced again at the reverent face of thegirl, the down drooped eyes, the lovely sensitive mouth. Quaint, thatwas the word for her, quaint and unusual. He certainly was going toenjoy meeting her.

"Ting-aling-ling-ling!" burst out the telephone bell on the desk. Hefrowned and dropped the curtain. Was that Opal? He hobbled to the deskpainfully, half annoyed that she had called him from the contemplationof this novel scene, not so sure that he would bother to call up thatgarage yet. Let it go till he had sampled the girl.

He took down the receiver and Opal's voice greeted him, mockingly,tauntingly from his own world. The little ivy leaved church with itsSaint Cecilia at the organ, and its strange weird message about a Godthat cared for man's ways, dropped away like a dream that was past.

When he hung up the receiver and turned back to his couch again thegirl had closed the window. It annoyed him. He did not know how hisgiddy badinage had clashed in upon the last words of the sermon.

It seemed a long time after the closing hymn before the little throngmelted away down the maple lined street. The young man watched themcuriously from behind his curtain, finding only food for amusement inmost of them. And then came the minister, lingering to talk to one hereand there, and his wife--it was undoubtedly his wife, even thehare-brained Laurie knew her, in the gray organdie, with the whiteat her neck, and the soft white hat. She had a pleasant light in hereyes, and one saw at once that she was a lady. There was a graceabout her that made the girl seem possible. And lastly, came the girl.

She stepped from the church door in her white dress and simple whitehat, white even to her little shoes, and correct in every way, he couldsee that. She was no country gawk! She came forth lightly into thesunshine which caught her hair in golden tendrils around her face as ifit loved to hide therein, and she was immediately surrounded by half adozen urchins. One had brought her some lilies, great white starrythings with golden hearts, and she gathered them into her arms as ifshe loved them, and smiled at the boys. One could see how they adoredher. She lingered talking to them, and laid her hand on one boy'sshoulder, he walking like a knight beside her trying to act as if hedid not know her hand was there. His head was drooped, but he lifted itwith a grin at last and gave her a nod which seemed to make her glad,for her face broke forth in another smile:

"Well, don't forget, to-night," she called as they turned to go, "andremember to tell Billy!"

Then she came trippingly across the grass, a song on her lips. Somegirl! Say! She certainly was a stunner!

VIII

Opal Verrons was small and slight with large childlike eyes that couldlook like a baby's, but that could hold the very devil on occasions.The eyes were dark and lustrous with long curling black lashes framingthem in a face that might have been modeled for an angel, so round thecurves, so enchanting the lips, so lofty the white brow. Angelé Potockahad no lovelier set to her head, no more limpal fire in her eye, thanhad Opal Verrons. Indeed her lovers often called her the Fire Opal. Theonly difference was that Angelé Potocka developed her brains, of whichshe had plenty, while Opal Verrons had placed her entire care upondeveloping her lovely little body, though she too had plenty of brainson occasion.

And she knew how to dress! So simply, so slightly sometimes, soperfectly to give a setting--the right setting--to her little self. Shewore her heavy dark hair bobbed, and it curled about her small headexquisitely, giving her the look of a Raphael Cherub or a boy page inthe court of King Arthur. With a flat band of silver olive leaves abouther brow, and the soft hair waving out below, nothing more wasnecessary for a costume save a brief drapery of silver spangled clothwith a strap of jewels and a wisp of black malines for a scarf. She wasalways startling and lovely even in her simplest costume. Many peopleturned to watch her in a simple dark blue serge made like a child'sgirded with a delicate arrangement of medallions and chains of whitemetal, her dark rough woollen stockings rolled girlishly below whitedimpled knees, and her feet shod in flat soled white buckskin shoes.She was young enough to "get away with it," the older women saidcattishly as they watched her stroll away to the beach with a new maneach day, and noted her artless grace and indifferent pose. That shehad a burly millionaire husband who still was under her spell andwatched her jealously only made her more interesting, and they pitiedher for being tied to a man twice her age and bulky as a bale ofcotton. She who could dance like a sylph and was light on her littlefeet as a thistle down. Though wise ones sometimes said that Opal hadher young eyes wide open when she married Ed Verrons, and she had himright under her little pink well manicured thumb. And some said she wasnot nearly so young as she looked.

Her hands were the weakest point in Opal Verron's whole outfit. Notthat they were unlovely in form or ungraceful. They were so small theyhardly seemed like hands, so undeveloped, so useless, with the dimplingof a baby's, yet the sharp nails of a little beast. They were so plumpand well cared for they were fairly sleek, and had an old wise airabout them as she patted her puffy curls daintily with a motion all herown that showed her lovely rounded arm, and every needle-pointedshell-tinted finger nail, sleek and puffy, and never used, not evenfor a bit of embroidery or knitting. She couldn't, you know, with thosesharp transparent little nails, they might break. They were like herlittle sharp teeth that always reminded one of a mouse's teeth, andmade one shudder at how sharp they would be should she everdecide to bite.

But her smile was like the mixing of all smiles, a baby's, a woman-of-the-world, a grieved child's, and a spirit who had put aside all moralpurpose. Perhaps, like mixed drinks it was for that reason but the moreintoxicating. And because she did not hide her charms and was lavishwith her smiles, there were more poor victims about her little feetthan about any other woman at the shore that summer. Men talked abouther in the smoking rooms and billiard rooms and compared her to vampsof other seasons, and decided she had left them all in the shade. Shewas a perfect production of the modern age, more perfect than othersbecause she knew how to do the boldest things with that cherubic airthat bereft sin of its natural ugliness and made it beautiful anddelicious, as if degradation had suddenly become an exalted thing, likesome of the old rites in a Pagan Temple, and she a lovely priestess.And when each new folly was over there was she with her innocent babyair, and her pure childlike face that looked dreamily out from itsframe of little girl hair, and seemed not to have been soiled at all.And so men who played her games lost their sense of sin and fell thatmuch lower than those who sin and know it and are afraid to lookthemselves in the face. When a man loses his sense of shame, of beingamong the pigs, he is in a far country indeed.

But Opal Verrons sauntering forth to the Hotel piazza in company withthree of her quondam admirers suddenly lost her luxurious air ofnestling content. The hotel clerk handed her two telegrams as shepassed the desk. She tore them open carelessly, but her eyes grew widewith horror as she read.

Percy Emerson had been arrested. He had run over a woman and a baby andboth were in a hospital in a critical condition. He would be heldwithout bail until it was seen whether they lived.

She drew in her breath with a frightened gasp and bit at her red lipwith her little sharp teeth. A pretty child with floating curls anddainty apparel ran laughing across her way, its hand outstretched to atiny white dog that was dancing after her, and Opal gave a sharp cryand tore the telegram into small bits. But when she opened the secondmessage her face paled under its delicate rouge as she read: "MortimerMcMarter killed in an accident when his car collided with a truck. Hisbody lies at Saybrook Inn. We find your address on his person, with arequest to let you know if anything happens to him. What do you wishdone with the body?"

Those who watched her face as she read say that it took on an ashencolor and she looked years older. Her real spirit seemed to be lookingforth from those wide limpid eyes for an instant, the spirit of acoward who had been fooling the world; the spirit of a lost soul whohad grown old in sin; the spirit of a soul who had stepped over thebounds and sinned beyond her depth.

She looked about upon them all, stricken, appalled,--not sorry but justafraid,--and not for her friends, but for herself! And then she gave ahorrid little lost laugh and dropping the telegram as if it had burnedher, she flung out her voice upon them with a blaze in her big eyes anda snarl in her lute-voice:

"Well, I wasn't to blame was I? They all were grown men, weren't they?It was up to them. _I'm_ going to get out of here! This is an_awful_ place!"

She gave a shudder and turning swiftly fled to the elevator, catchingit just as the door was being shut, and they saw her rising behind theblack and gold grating and waving a mocking little white hand at themas they watched her amazed. Then one of them stooped and picked up thetelegram. And while they still stood at the doorway wondering some onepointed to a brilliant blue car that was sliding down the avenue acrossthe beach road.

"She has gone!" they said looking at one another strangely. Did shereally care then?

* * * * *

The dinner at Sabbath Valley parsonage was a good one. It was quitedifferent from any dinner Laurie Shafton had ever eaten before. It hada taste that he hadn't imagined just plain chicken and mashed potatoesand bread and butter and coffee and cherry pie could have.

Those were things he seldom picked out from a menu, and he met them assomething new and delicious, prepared in this wonderful country way.

Also the atmosphere was queer and interesting.

The minister had helped him into the dining-room, a cheery room with abay window looking toward the church and a window box of nasturtiums inwhich the bees hummed and buzzed.

The girl came in and acknowledged the casual introduction of her fatherwith a quite sophisticated nod and sat down across from him. And therewas a _prayer_ at the beginning of the meal! Just as he was aboutto say something graceful to the girl, there was a _prayer_. Itwas almost embarrassing. He had never seen one before like this. At aboarding school once he had experienced a thing they called "grace"which consisted in standing behind their chairs while the entireassembled hungry multitude repeated a poem of a religious nature. Heremembered they used to spend their time making up parodies on it--oneran something about "this same old fish upon my plate," and rhymed with"hate." He stared at the lovely bowed hair of the girl across the tablewhile it was going on, and got ready a remark calculated to draw hersmiles, but the girl lifted eyes that seemed so far away he felt asthough she did not see him, and he contented himself with replying tohis host's question something about the part of the chicken he likedbest. It was a queer home to him, it seemed so intimate. Even thechicken seemed to be a detail of their life together, perhaps becausethere was only one chicken, and one breast. Where he dwelt there werecountless breasts, and everybody had a whole breast if he wanted it, ora whole chicken for the matter of that. Here they had to stop and askwhat others liked before they chose for themselves. This analysis wentqueerly on in his mind while he sat waiting for his plate and wonderingover the little things they were talking about. Mrs. Severn said MissSaxon had been crying all through church, and she told her Billy hadbeen away all night. She was awfully worried about his going with thatbaseball team.

A fleeting shadow passed over the girl's face:

"Billy promised me he would be there to-day," she said thoughtfully,"something must have happened. I don't think Billy was with thebaseball team--" then her eyes travelled away out the window to thedistant hills, she didn't seem to see Laurence Shafton at all. It was anew experience for him. He was fairly good looking and knew it.

Who the deuce was this Billy? And what did she care about Miss Saxoncrying? Did she care so much for Billy already? Would it be worth hiswhile to make her uncare?

"Mrs. Carter wasn't out," said Mrs. Severn as she poured coffee, "Ihope she's not having more trouble with her neuralgia."

The minister suddenly looked up from his carving:

"Did Mark come back yesterday, Marilyn?"

The girl drew a quick breath and brought back her eyes from the hills,but she did not look at the young man: "No, father he didn't come."

Who the deuce was _Mark_? Of course there would be several, butthere was always _one_. Billy and Mark! It was growing interesting.

But Billy and Mark were not mentioned again, though a deep gravityseemed to have settled into the eyes of the family since their nameshad come up. Laurie decided to speak of the weather and the roads:

"Glorious weather we're having," he chirped out condescendingly, "Butyou certainly have the limit for roads. What's the matter with thehighway? Had a Detour right in the best part of the road. Bridge down,it said, road flooded! Made the deuce of a time for me--!"

"Bridge?" remarked Marilyn looking up thoughtfully.

"Flood?" echoed the minister sharply.

"Yes. About two miles back where the highway crosses this valley. Putme in some fix. Had a bet on you know. Date with a lady. Staked a lotof money on winning, too. Hard luck," Then he looked across atMarilyn's attentive face. Ah! He was getting her at last! More on thatline.

"But it'll not be all loss," he added gallantly with a gesture ofadmiration toward her, "You see I didn't have any idea I was going tomeet _you_."

But Marilyn's eyes were regarding him soberly, steadily, analytically,without an answering smile. It was as if she did not like what he hadsaid--if indeed she had heard it at all--as if she were offended at it.Then the eyes look on an impersonal look and wandered thoughtfully tothe mountains in the distance. Laurie felt his cheeks burn. He feltalmost embarrassed again, like during the prayer. Didn't the girl knowhe was paying her a compliment? Or was she such a prude that shethought him presuming on so slight an acquaintance? Her father wasspeaking:

"I don't quite understand," 'he said thoughtfully. "There is no bridgewithin ten miles, and nothing to flood the road but the Creek, whichnever was known to overflow its banks more than a few feet at most. Thehighway is far above the valley. You must have been a bit turnedaround."

The young man laughed lightly:

"Well, perhaps I had a jag on. I'm not surprised. I'd been driving forhours and had to drink to keep my nerve till morning. There were somedandy spilling places around those mountain curves. One doesn't care tolook out and see when one is driving at top speed."

Heavens! What had he said now? The girl's eyes came round to look himover again and went through to his soul like a lightning flash and awayagain, and there was actually scorn on her lips. He must take anotherline. He couldn't understand this haughty country beauty in the least.

"I certainly did enjoy your music," he flashed forth with a little ofhis own natural gaiety in his voice that made him so universal afavorite.

The girl turned gravely toward him and surveyed him once more as if shewere surprised and perhaps had not done him justice. She looked likeone who would always be willing to do one justice. He felt encouraged:

"If it hadn't been for this blamed foot of mine I'd have hobbled overto the--service. I was sorry not to hear the music closer."

"There is another service this evening," she said pleasantly, "Perhapsfather can help you over. It is a rather good organ for so small aone." She was trying to be polite to him. It put him on his metal. Itmade him remember how rude he had been to her father the night before.

"Delightful organ I'm sure," he returned, "but it was the organist thatI noticed. One doesn't often hear such playing even on a good organ."

"Oh, I've been well taught," said the girl without self-consciousness."But the children are to sing this evening. You'll like to hear thechildren I'm sure. They are doing fairly well now."

"Charmed, I'm sure," he said with added flattery of his eyes which shedid not take at all because she was passing her mother's plate for moregravy. How odd not to have a servant pass it!

The host was polite but unimpressed. It was almost as though he hadnever heard of William J. Shafton the multi-millionaire. Or was it?Dash the man, he had such a way with him of acting as though he kneweverything and _nothing_ impressed him; as though he was just asgood as the next one! As though his father was something even greaterthan a millionaire! He didn't seem to be in the least like Laurie'sidea of a clergyman. He couldn't seem to get anywhere with him.

The talk drifted on at the table, ebbing and flowing about the twoladies as the tide touches a rising strand and runs away. The girl andher mother answered his questions with direct steady gaze, and politephrases, but they did not gush nor have the attitude of taking himeagerly into their circle as he was accustomed to being taken inwherever he went. Nothing he said seemed to reach further than kindlyhospitality. When that was fulfilled they were done and went back totheir own interests.

Marilyn did not seem to consider the young man a guest of hers in anysense personally. After the dinner she moved quietly out to the porchand seated herself in a far chair with a leather bound book, perhaps aBible, or prayer book. He wasn't very familiar with such things. Shetook a little gold pencil from a chain about her neck and made notes ona bit of paper from what she read, and she joined not at all in theconversation unless she was spoken to, and then her thoughts seemed tobe elsewhere. It was maddening.

Once when a tough looking little urchin went by with a grin she flewdown off the porch to the gate to talk with him; she stood there sometime in earnest converse. What could a girl like that find to say to amere kid? When she came back there was a look of trouble in her eyes,and by and by her father asked if Harry had seen _Billy,_ and sheshook her head with a cloud on her brow. It must be _Billy_ then.Billy was the one! Well, dash him! If he couldn't go one better thanBilly he would see! Anyhow Billy didn't have a sprained ankle, and aplace in the family! A girl like that was worth a few days' invalidism.His ankle didn't hurt much since the minister had dressed it again. Hebelieved he could get up and walk if he liked, but he did not mean to.He meant to stay here a few days and conquer this young beauty. It waslikely only her way of vamping a man, anyway, and a mighty tantalizingone at that. Well, he would show her! And he would show Billy, too,whoever Billy was! A girl like that! Why,--A girl like that with a facelike that would grace any gathering, any home! He had the fineness oftaste to realize that after he got done playing around with Opal andwomen like her, this would be a lady any one would be proud to settledown to. And why not? If he chose to fall in love with a countrynobody, why could'nt he? What was the use of being Laurie Shafton, sonof the great William J. Shafton, if he couldn't marry whom he would?Shafton would be enough to bring any girl up to par in any society inthe universe. So Laurie Shafton set himself busily to be agreeable.

And presently his opportunity arrived. Mrs. Severn had gone in thehouse to take a nap, and the minister had been called away to see asick man. The girl continued to study her little book:

"I wish you would come and amuse me," he said in the voice of aninteresting invalid.

The girl looked up and smiled absently:

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I have to go to my Sunday-school class in afew minutes, and I was just getting my lesson ready. Would you like meto get you something to read?"

"No," he answered crossly. He was not used to being crossed in anydesire by a lady, "I want you to talk to me. Bother the Sunday-school!Give them a vacation to-day and let them go fishing. They'll bedelighted, I'm sure. You have a wonderful foot. Do you know it? Youmust be a good dancer. Haven't you a victrola here? We might dance ifonly my foot weren't out of commission."

"I don't dance, Mr. Shafton, and it is the Sabbath," she smiledindulgently with her eyes on her book.

"Why don't you dance? I could teach you easily. And what has theSabbath got to do with it?"

"But I don't care to dance. It doesn't appeal to me in the least. Andthe Sabbath has everything to do with it. If I did dance I would not doit to-day."

"But why?" he asked in genuine wonder.

"Because this is the day set apart for enjoying God and not enjoyingourselves."

He stared.

"You certainly are the most extraordinary young woman I ever met," hesaid admiringly, "Did no one ever tell you that you are verybeautiful."

She gave him the benefit of her beautiful eyes then in a cold amusedglance:

"Among my friends, Mr. Shafton, it is not considered good form to saysuch things to a lady of slight acquaintance." She rose and gathered upher book and hat that lay on the floor beside her chair, and drewherself up till she seemed almost regal.

Laurie Shafton stumbled to his feet. He was ashamed. He felt almost ashe had felt once when he was caught with a jag on being rude to afriend of his mother's:

"I beg your pardon," he said gracefully, "I hope you will believe me, Imeant no harm."

"It is no matter," said the girl graciously, "only I do not like it.Now you must excuse me. I see my class are gathering."

She put the hat on carelessly, with a push and a pat and slipped pasthim down the steps and across the lawn. Her dress brushed against hisfoot as she went and it seemed like the touch of something ethereal. Henever had felt such an experience before.

She walked swiftly to a group of boys, ugly, uncomely, overgrown kids,the same who had followed her after church, and met them witheagerness. He felt a jealous chagrin as he watched them follow her intothe church, an anger that she dared to trample upon him that way, afierce desire to get away and quaff the cup of admiration at the handof some of his own friends, or to quaff some cup, _any_ cup, forhe was thirsty, thirsty, _thirsty_, and this was a dry and barrenland. If he did stay and try to win this haughty country beauty hewould have to find a secret source of supply somewhere or he neverwould be able to live through it.

The Sunday-school hour wore away while he was planning how to revengehimself, but she did not return. She lingered for a long time on thechurch steps talking with those everlasting kids again, and after theywere gone she went back into the church and began to play low, sweetmusic.

It was growing late. Long red beams slanted down the village streetacross the lawn, lingered and went out. A single ruby burned on one ofthe memorial windows like a lamp, and went purple and then gray. It wasgrowing dusk, and that girl played on! Dash it all! Why didn't shequit? It was wonderful music, but he wanted to talk to her. If hehobbled slowly could he get across that lawn? He decided to try. Andthen, just as he rose and steadied himself by the porch pillar, downthe street in a whirl of dust and noisy claxon there came a great bluecar and drew up sharp in front of the door, while a lute-like voiceshouted gaily: "Laurie, Laurie Shafton, is that you?"

IX

After Billy had listened a long time he took a single step to relievehis cramped toes, which were numb with the tensity of his strainedposition. Stealthily as he could he moved his shoe, but it seemed togrind loudly upon the cement floor of the cellar, and he stopped frozenin tensity again to listen. After a second he heard a low growl as ifsomeone outside the house were speaking. Then all was still. After atime he heard the steps again, cautiously, walking over his head, andhis spine seemed to rise right up and lift him, as he stood trembling.He wasn't a bit superstitious, Billy wasn't. He knew there was no suchthing as a ghost, and he wasn't going to be fooled by any noiseswhatsoever, but anybody would admit it was an unpleasant position to bein, pinned in a dark unfamiliar cellar without a flash light, and stepscoming overhead, where only a dead man or a doped man was supposed tobe. He cast one swift glance back at the cobwebby window through whichhe had so recently arrived, and longed to be back again, out in theopen with the bells, the good bells sounding a call in his ears. If hewere out wouldn't he run? Wouldn't he even leave his old bicycle to anyfate and _run_? But no! He couldn't! He would have to come backinevitably. Whoever was upstairs in that house alone and in peril hemust save. Suppose--!--His heart gave a great dry sob within him and heturned away from the dusty exit that looked so little now and soinadequate for sudden flight.

The steps went on overhead shuffling a little louder, as they seemedfurther off. They were climbing the stair he believed. They wore rubberheels! _Link_ had worn rubber heels! And Shorty's shoes werecovered with old overshoes! Had they come back, perhaps to hide fromtheir pursuers? His heart sank. If that were so he must get out somehowand go after the police, but that should be his last resort. He didn'twant to get any one else in this scrape until he knew exactly what sortof a scrape it was. It wasn't square to anybody--not square to thedoped man, not square to himself, not even square to Pat and the othertwo, and--yes, he must own it,--not square to _Cart_. That was hisfirst consideration, Cart! He must find Cart. But first he must findout somehow who that man was that had been kidnapped.

It seemed an age that he waited there in the cellar and everything sostill. Once he heard a door far up open, and little shuffling noises,and by and by he could not stand it any longer. Getting down softly onall fours, he crept slowly, noiselessly over to the cellar stairs, andbegan climbing, stopping at every step to listen. His efforts were muchhampered by the milk bottle which kept dragging down to one side andthreatening to hit against the steps. But he felt that milk wasessential to his mission. He dared not go without it. The tools were inhis other pocket. They too kept catching in his sleeve as he movedcautiously. At last he drew himself to the top step. There was a crackof light under the door. Suppose it should be locked? He could saw outa panel, but that would make a noise, and he still had the feeling thatsomeone was in that house. A cellar was not a nice place in which to betrapped. One bottle of milk wouldn't keep him alive very long. Thehaunted house was a great way from anywhere. Even the bells couldn'tcall him from there, once anybody chose to fasten him in the cellar,and find the loose window and fasten it up--!

Such thoughts poured a torrent of hot fire through his brain while hiscold fingers gripped the door knob, and slowly, fiercely, compellingly,made it turn in its socket till its rusty old spring whined incomplaint, and then he held his breath to listen again. It seemed anage before he dared put any weight upon that unlatched door to see ifit would move, and then he did it so cautiously that he was not sure itwas opening till a ray of light from a high little window shot into hiseyes and blinded him. He held the knob like a vise, and it was anotherage before he dared slowly release the spring and relax his hand. Thenhe looked around. He found himself in a kind of narrow butler's pantrywith a swinging door opposite him into the room at the back, and anarrow passage leading around the corner next the door. He peekedcautiously, blinkingly round the door jamb and saw the lower step ofwhat must be back stairs. There were no back stairs in Aunt Saxon'shouse, but before his mother died Billy Gaston had lived in the citywhere they always had back stairs. That door before him likely led tothe dining-room. He took a careful step, pushed the swing door half aninch and satisfied himself that was the kitchen at the back. No onethere. Another step or two gave him the same assurance about thedining-room and no one there. He surveyed the distance to the foot ofthe back stairs. It seemed long. What he was afraid of was that lightspace at the foot of those stairs. He was almost sure there was a hallstraight through to the front door, and he had a hunch that that frontdoor was open. If he passed the steps and anyone was there they wouldsee him, and yet he wanted to get up those stairs now, right away,before anything more happened. It was too still up there to suit him.With trembling fingers he untied his shoe strings, and slipped off hisshoes, knotting the strings together and slinging the shoes around hisneck. He was taking no chances. He gripped the revolver with one handand stole out cautiously. When he reached the end of the dining-roomwall he applied an eye toward the opening of light, and behold it wasas he had suspected, a hall leading straight through to the front door,and Shorty, with his full length profile cut clear against the morning,standing on the upper step keeping lookout! He dodged back and caughthis breath, then made a noiseless dart toward those stairs. If Shortyheard, or if he turned and saw anything he must have thought it was thereported ghost walking, so silently and like a breath passed Billy upthe stair. But when he was come to the top, he held his breath again,for now he could distinctly hear steps walking about in the room closeat hand, and peering up he saw the door was open part way. He pausedagain to reconnoitre and his heart set up an intolerable pounding inhis breast.

He could dimly make out the back of a chair, and further against apatch of light where the back window must be he could see the footboard of a bed, the head of which must be against the opposite wall Thedoor was open about a third of the way. There was a key in the lock.Did that mean that they locked the man in? It would be a great thing toget hold of that key!

A moan in the direction of the bed startled him, and prodded his wearymind. He gave a quick silent spring across in front of the door andflattened himself against the wall. He knew he had made a slight noisein his going, and he felt the stillness in the room behind the halfopen door. Link had heard him. It was a long time before he dared stiragain.

Link seemed to lay down something on the floor that sounded like a dishand start toward the door. Billy felt the blood fly to the top of hishead. If Link came out he was caught. Where could he fly? Not downstairs. Shorty was there, with a gun of course. Would it do to snapthat door shut and lock Link in with the prisoner? No telling what hemight do, and Shorty would come if there was an outcry. He waited in anagony of suspense, but Link did not come out yet. Instead he tiptoedback to the bed again, and seemed to be arranging some things out of abasket on a little stand by the bed. Billy applied an eye to the crackof the door and got a brief glimpse. Then cautiously he put out hisstubby fingers and grasped that key, firmly, gently; turning, slipping,little by little, till he had it safe in his possession. Several timeshe thought Link turned and looked toward the door. Once he almostdropped the key as he was about to set it free from the lock, but hisanxious fingers were true to their trust, and the key was at last drawnback and safely slid into Billy's pocket. Then he looked around for aplace to hide. There were rooms on the front, and a door was open. Hecould slide in there and hide. It was dark, and there might be acloset. He cast one eye through the door crack and beheld in the dimlight Link bending over the inert figure on the bed with a cup andspoon in his hand. Perhaps they were giving him more dope! If he onlycould stop it somehow! The man was doped enough, sleeping all thattime! But now was the time for him and the key to make an exit.

Slowly, cautiously he backed away from the door, down the hall and intothe next open door, groping his silent way toward a little half moon inthe shutter. He made a quick calculation, glanced about, did somesleight of hand with the door till it swung noiselessly shut, and thenslipping back to the window he examined the catches. There was a paneof glass gone, but it was not in the right place. If he only couldmanage to slide the sash down. He turned the catch and applied apressure to the upper sash, but like most upper sashes it would notbudge. If he strained harder he might be able to move it but that wouldmake a noise and spoil his purpose. He looked wildly round the room,with a feeling that something must help him, and suddenly he discoveredthat the upper sash of the other window was pulled all the way down,and a sweet breath of wild grape blossoms was being wafted to hisheated forehead. With a quick move he placed himself under this window,which he realized must be almost over Shorty's head. It was but thework of an instant to grasp Pat's gun and stick its nose well throughthe little half moon of an opening in the shutter, pointed straightover Shorty's head into the woods, and pull the trigger.

The report went rolling, reverberating down the valley from hill tohill like a whole barrage it seemed to Billy; and perhaps to Shortywaiting for his pard below, but at any rate before the echoes hadceased to roll Shorty was no longer on the door step. He had vanishedand was far away, breaking through the underbrush, stumbling, andcutting himself, getting up to stumble again, he hurled himself awayfrom that haunted spot. Ghosts were nothing to Shorty. He could matchhimself against a spirit any day, but ghosts that could shoot wereanother matter, and he made good his going without hesitation orneedless waiting for his partner in crime. He was never quite surewhere that shot came from, whether from high heaven or down beneath theearth.

As for Link, if he was giving more dope, he did not finish. He droppeda cup in his hurry and darted like a winged thing to the head of thestairs, where he took the flight at a slide and disappeared into thewoods without waiting for locks or keys or any such things.

"He seems a little nervous," grinned Billy, who had climbed to thewindow seat with one eye applied to the half moon, watching his victimstake their hurried leave. And lest they should dare to watch and returnbefore he was ready for them he sent another shot into the blue sky,ricochetting along the hills; and still another, grimly, after aninterval.

Then swiftly turning he stole down the front stairs and took the keyfrom the lock, shut the door, pushing a big bolt on the inside. With ahasty examination of the lower floor that satisfied him that he wassafely ensconced in his stronghold and would not be open to immediateinterruption he hurried upstairs again.

His first act was to open a window and throw back the shutters. Themorning sunlight leaped in like a friend, and a bird in a tree carolledout gladly. Something in Billy's heart burst into a tear. A tear! Bah!He brushed it away with his grimy hand and went over to the bed,rolling the inert figure toward him till the face was in plain view. Asudden fit of trembling took possession of him and he droppednervelessly beside the bed with his hands outstretched and uttered asob ending in a single syllable,

_"Cart!"_

For there on the bed still as the dead lay Mark Carter, his belovedidol, and _he had helped to put him there!_

Thirty pieces of silver! And his dearest friend dead, perhaps! A Judas!All his life he would be a Judas. He knew now why Judas hanged himself.If Cart was dead he would have to hang himself! Here in this house ofdeath he must hang himself, like Judas, poor fool. And he would flingthat blood money back. Only, _Cart must not be dead!_ It would behell forever for Billy if Cart was dead. He _could not stand it!_

Billy sprang to his feet with tears raining down his cheeks, but histired dirty face looked beautiful in its anxiety. He tore open MarkCarter's coat and vest, wrenched away collar, necktie and shirt, andlaid his face against the breast. It was warm! He struggled closer andput his ear to the heart. It was beating!

He shook him gently and called,

"Cart! Cart! Oh, _Boy!"_ with sobs choking in his throat. And allthe while the little bird was singing in a tree enough to split hisfeathered throat, and the sweet air full of wild grape was rushing intothe long closed room and driving out the musty air.

Billy laid Mark down gently on the dusty pillow and opened anotherwindow. He stumbled over the cup and spoon, and a bottle fell from thetable and broke sending out a pungent odor. But Billy crept close tohis friend once more and began rubbing his hands and forehead andcrooning to him as he had once done to his dog when he suffered from abroken leg. Nobody would have known Billy just then, as he stoodcrooning over Mark.

Water! He looked around. A broken pitcher stood on the table halffilled. He tasted it dubiously. It was water, luke warm, but water! Hesoused a towel he found on the washstand into it and slopped it overMark's face. He went through all the manoeuvres they use on thefootball field when a man is knocked out, and then he bethought him ofthe milk. Milk was an antidote for poisons. If he could get some downhim!

Carefully he rinsed out a glass he found on the bureau and poured somemilk in it, crept on the bed and lifted Mark's head in his arms, putthe glass to his lips, and begged and pled, and finally succeeded inprying the lips and getting a few drops down. Such joy as thrilled himwhen Mark finally swallowed. But it was a long time, and Billy began tothink he must go for the doctor, leave his friend here at the mercy ofwho would come and go after all. He had hoped he might keep his shame,and Mark's capture from everybody, but what was that verse the teacherhad taught them once awhile ago? "Be sure your sin will find you out."That was true. He couldn't let Mark die. He must go for the doctor. Docwould come, and he would keep his mouth shut, but Doc would_know_, and Billy liked Doc. Well, he would have to get him! Markwould hate it so, too, but Billy would have to!

It was just then that Mark drew a long deep breath of the sweet air,sighed and drew another. Billy pressed the glass to his lips and Markopened his eyes, saw the boy, smiled, and said in a weak voice:

"Hullo, Billy, old boy, got knocked out, didn't I?" Then he closed hiseyes and seemed to go away again. But Billy, with wildly beating heartpoured some more milk and came closer:

Billy understood his friend. Mark opened his eyes and roused a little.Presently he drank some more, nearly a whole glass full and Billy tookheart of hope.

"Do ya think ya could get up now, Cart, ef I he'ped ya?" he askedanxiously, "We gotta get after those guys ur they'll make a getaway."

"Sure!" said Mark rousing again. "Go to it, Kid. I'm with you," and hetried to sit up. But his head reeled and he fell back. Billy's heartsank. He must get him out of this house before the two keepersreturned, perhaps with Pat or some other partner in their crime.Patiently he began again, and gradually by degrees he propped Mark up,fed him more milk, and urged him to rise; fairly lifted him with hisloving strength, across the room, and finally, inch by inch down thestairs and out the back door.

Billy felt a great thrill when he heard that door shut behind him andknew his friend was out in the open again under God's sky. Nothing everquite discouraged Billy when he was out of doors. But it was a work oftime to get Mark across the clearing and down in the undergrowth out ofsight of the house, where the old bicycle lay. Once there Billy feltlike holding a Thanksgiving service. But Mark was very white and layback on the grass looking wholly unlike himself.

"Say, Cart," said Billy after a brief silence of thought, "I gotta getyou on my machine. We gotta get down to Unity an' phone."

"All right, old man, just as you say," murmured Mark too dizzy to care.

So Billy with infinite tenderness, and much straining of his youngmuscles got Mark up and managed to put him astride the wheel; but itwas tough going and slow, over rough places, among undergrowth, andsometimes Billy had to stop for breath as he walked and pushed and heldhis friend.

But Mark was coming to his own again, and by the time they reached aroad he was able to keep his balance, and know what he was doing. Itwas high noon before they reached Unity and betook themselves to thedrug store. While Mark asked for medicine Billy hied him to a telephonebooth. His heart was beating wildly. He feared him much that Mark's carwas gone.

But the chief's voice answered him after a little waiting, and heexplained:

"Say, I'm the kid that phoned you early this morning. Didya get thatcar aw'right?" Billy held his breath, his jaded eyes dropped shut withanxiety and weariness. But the chief's voice answered promptly, "yes,we got yer car all right, but didn't get the men. They beat it whenthey heard us coming. What sort of men were they, do you know?"

"Aw, that's aw'right, Chief, I'll tell ya when I gi'down there. Can'ttell ya over the phone. Say, I'm Billy, Billy Gaston. You know me. Overto Sab'th Valley. Yes. You seen me play on the team. Sure. Well, sayChief, I'm here in Unity with the guy that owns the car. Mark Carter.You know him. Sure! Mark! Well, he's all in, an' he wants his car toget home. He's been up all night and he ain't fit to walk. He wants meto come over and bring his car back to Unity fer him. I got my bikehere, See? Now, I ain't got a license of course, but I c'd bring hisalong. That be aw'right Chief, just over to Unity? Aw'right, Chief?Thank ya, Chief. Yas, I'm comin' right away. S'long!"

Billy saw Mark comfortably resting on a couch in the back room of thedrug store, where an old pal of his was clerk, and then stopping onlyfor an invigorating gulp or two of a chocolate ice cream soda, heclimbed on his old wheel and pedalled on his happy way to Economy. Thewinds touched him pleasantly as he passed, the sunshine had a queerreddish look to his feverish eyes, and the birds seemed to be singingin the top of his head, but he was happy. He might go to sleep on theway and roll off his wheel, but he should worry! Mark was safe. He hadalmost sold him for thirty pieces of silver, but God had somehow beengood to him and Mark was alive. Now he would serve him all the rest ofhis life,--Mark or God,--it seemed all one to him now somehow, so longhad he idealized his friend, so mixed were his ideas of theology.

But Billy did not go to sleep nor fall off his wheel, and in due timehe arrived in Economy and satisfied the Chief's curiosity with vagueanswers, a vivid description of Link and Shorty, and the suggestionthat they might be found somewhere near the Haunted House on Stark'smountain. He had heard them talking about going there, he said. He gotaway without a mention of the real happening at Pleasant View or a hintthat he had had anything to do with the stealing of the car. Billysomehow was gifted that way. He could shut his mouth always just intime, and grin and give a turn to the subject that entirely changed thecurrent of thought, so he kept his own counsel. Not for his ownprotection would he have kept back any necessary information, but forMark's sake. Yes--for Mark's sake--! Mark would not want it to beknown.

It was in the early evening, and the sky was still touched by the afterglow of sunset, beneath the evening star, as Mark and Billy in thereclaimed car, finally started from Unity for home.

In both their hearts was the thought of the bells that would be ringingnow in Sabbath Valley for the evening service, and of the one who wouldbe playing them, and each was trying to frame some excuse that wouldexplain his absence to her without really explaining _anything_.

And about this time the minister came forth from the parsonage, muchvexed in spirit by the appearance of the outlandish lady in heroutlandish car. She seemed to be insisting on remaining at theparsonage as if it were a common hostelry, and he and his wife had muchperplexity to know just what to do. And now as he issued quietly forthfrom a side door he could hear her lute-like voice laughing from hisfront porch, and looking back furtively he saw to his horror that thelady, as well as the gentleman, was smoking a cigarette!

He paused and tried to think just what would be the best way to meetthis situation, and while he hesitated his senior elder, a man ofnarrow vision, hard judgments, yet staunch sincerity, approached him.The minister had grown to expect something unpleasant whenever this mansought him out, and to-night he shrank from the ordeal; but anythingwas better than to have him see the visitor upon his front steps, soSevern turned and hurried toward him cordially:

"Good evening, Harricutt. It's been a good day, hasn't it?" he saidgrasping the wiry old hand:

"Not so pleasant as you'd think, Mr. Severn," responded the hard oldvoice harshly, "I've come on very unpleasant business. Very unpleasantindeed; but the standard of the church must be kept up, and we must actat once in this matter! It is most serious, most serious! I've justcalled a meeting of the session to be held after church, and I've sentout for this _Mark Carter_ to be present. He must answer forhimself the things that are being said about him, or his name must bestricken from our church roll. Do you know what they are saying abouthim, Brother Severn? Do you know what he's done?"

But the arrow had entered the soul of the minister and his voice wastoo unsteady to respond, so the senior elder proceeded:

"He has been keeping company with a young woman of dissolute character,and he has been to a place of public amusement with her and been seendrinking with her. He affects dance halls, and is known to live aworldly life. It is time he was cast out from our midst and becomeanathema. And now, it is quite possible he may be tried for murder!Have you heard what happened last night, Mr. Severn? Did you know thatMark Carter, a member of _our church_, tried to _kill a man_down at the Blue Duck Tavern, and for jealousy about a girl of loosecharacter? And now, Brother Severn, what are we going to do about it?"

Said the minister, answering quietly, calmly:

"Brother Harricutt, we are not going to do anything about it just now.We are going into the church to worship God. We will wait at leastuntil Mark Carter comes back and see what he has to say for himself."

And about that minute, Mark, now thoroughly restored and drivingsteadily along the road, turned to Billy and said quietly with atwinkle in his eye:

"Kid, what made you put up that Detour?"

X

The service that evening had been one of peculiar tenderness. Theminister prayed so earnestly for the graces of forgiveness, lovingkindness and tender mercy, that several in the congregation began towonder who had been hard on his neighbor now. It was almost uncannysometimes how that minister spotted out the faults and pettydifferences in his flock. Many examined their own hearts fearfullyduring the prayer, but at its close the face of the senior Elder wasstern and severe as ever as he lifted his hymn book and began to turnthe leaves to the place.

Elder Harricutt would much rather it had been "God the All Terrible."His lips were pursed for battle. He knew the minister was going to besoft hearted again, and it would fall to his lot to uphold the spotlessrighteousness of the church. That had been his attitude ever since hebecame a Christian. He had always been trying to find a flaw in Mr.Severn's theology, but much to his astonishment and perhapsdisappointment, he had never yet been able to find a point on whichthey disagreed theologically, when it came right down to old fashionedreligion, but he was always expecting that the next sermon would be theone wherein the minister had broken loose from the old dyed-in-the-woolcreeds and joined himself to the new and advanced thinkers, than whom,in his opinion, there were no lower on the face of God's earth. And yetin spite of it all he loved the minister, and was his strong admirerand loyal adherent, self-appointed mentor though he felt himself to be.

Over on the other side of the church Elder Duncannon, tall, gaunt,hairy, with kind gray eyes and a large mouth, reminding slightly ofAbraham Lincoln, sang earnestly, through steel bowed spectaclesadjusted far out on the end of his nose. Behind him Lemuel Tipton, alsoan elder, sandy, with cherry lips, apple cheeks and a fringe ofgrizzled red hair under his chin, sang with his head thrown back,looking like a big robin. The minister knew he could depend on thosetwo. He scanned his audience. The elders were all present. Gibson. Hehad a narrow forehead, near-sighted eyes, and an inclination to takethe opposite side from the minister. His lips were thin, and he pursedthem often, and believed in efficiency and discipline. He wouldundoubtedly go with Harricutt. Jones, the short fat one who owned theplush mills and hated boys. He had taken sides against Mark about thememorial window. No hope from him! Fowler, small, thin, gray, with aretreating chin, had once lived next to Mrs. Carter and had a differenceabout some hens that strayed away to lay. Harricutt likely had him allprimed. Jones, Gibson, Harricutt--three against three. Joyce's votewould decide it. Joyce was a new man, owner of the canneries. He was agreat stickler for proprieties, yet he seemed to feel that a minister'sword was law--Well--! _God_ was still above--!

The benediction held a tenderness that fairly compelled the waitingcongregation to attend with their hearts.

* * * * *

"Let's go over there and hear that girl play," suggested Lauriesuddenly, "Church is out and we'll make her play the bells. They'resimply _great_. She's some _player!"_

Opal leaned back in her chair and regarded him through the fringes ofher eyelashes, laughing a silvery peal that shivered into the reverenceof the benediction like a shower of icicles going down the back.Marilyn heard and blended the Amen into the full organ to break theshock as the startled congregation moved restlessly, with half unclosedeyes. Elder Harricutt heard, shut his eyes tighter, and pressed severelips together with resistance. This doubtless was that woman theycalled Cherry. That irreverent Mark Carter must be close at hand. Andon the rose-vined porch Laurence Shafton felt the sting of the laughand drew himself together:

"Oh, Laurie, Laurie!" she mocked, "You might as well be dead atSaybrook Inn or imprisoned for killing a family as fall in love withthat girl. She isn't at all your kind. How would you look singingpsalms? But come on, I'm game! I can see how she'll hate me. Can youwalk?"

They sauntered slowly over to the church in the fragrant darkness, heleaning on a cane he had found by the door. The kindly, curious peoplecoming out eyed them interestedly, looking toward the two cars in frontof the parsonage, and wondered. It was a neighborhood where everybodytook a kindly interest in everybody else, and the minister belonged tothem all. Nothing went on at his house that they did not just love anddote on.

"Seems to me that girl has an awful low-necked dress for Sunday night,"said Mrs. Little to Mrs. Jones as they walked slowly down the street,"Did you catch the flash of those diamonds on her neck and fingers?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Jones contemptuously, "paint on her face too, thick aspie crust. I saw her come. She drove her own car and her dresses wereup to her knees, and such stockings! With stripes like lace in them!And little slippers with heels like knitting needles! I declare, Idon't know what this generation is coming to! I'm glad my Nancy neverwanted to go away to boarding school. They say it's terrible, theboldness of young girls nowadays."

"Well, if you'd ask me, _I'd_ say she wasn't so very_young!"_ declared Mrs. Little. "The light from the church doorwas full in her face when I was coming down the steps, and she lookedas if she'd cut her eye teeth sometime past."

"She had short hair," said Mrs. Jones, "for she pulled off her hat andran her fingers through it just like a boy. I was cutting bread at thepantry window when she drove up and I couldn't help seeing her."

"Oh, when my sister was up in New York this spring she said she sawseveral old gray-haired women with bobbed hair. She said it wassomething terrible to see how the world had run to foolishness."

"Well, I don'no as it's wicked to bob your hair," said Mrs. Jones. "Isuppose it does save some time taking care of it if you have curlyhair, and it looks good on you, but mercy! It attracts so muchattention. Well, I'm glad we don't live in New York! I declare, everytime I come to church and hear Mr. Severn preach I just want to thankGod that my lines are cast in Sabbath Valley. But speaking of going toboarding school, it didn't hurt Marilyn Severn to go. She's just assweet and unspoiled as when she went away."

"Oh, _her!_ You _couldn't_ spoil her. She's all_spirit_. She's got both her father's and mother's souls mixed upin her and you couldn't get a better combination. I declare I oftenwonder the devil lets two such good people live. I suppose he doesn'tmind as long's he can confine 'em to a little place among the hills.But my soul! If those two visitors didn't need a sermon to-night Inever saw folks that did. Do you know, when that man came last night ina broken down car he swore so he woke us all up, all around theneighborhood. If it had been anybody else in town but Mr. Severn he'dbeen driven out or tarred and feathered. Well, good-night. I guess youaren't afraid to walk the rest of the way alone."

Back in the church Marilyn had lingered at the organ, partly becauseshe dreaded going back to the house while the two strangers were there,partly because it was only at the organ that she could seem to let hersoul give voice to the cry of its longing. All day she had prayed whilegoing quietly about her Sabbath duties. All day she steadily heldherself to the tasks that were usually her joy and delight, thoughsometimes it seemed that she could not go on with them. Billy and Mark!Where were they? What had their absence to do with one another? Somehowit comforted her a little to think of them _both_ away, and thenagain it disquieted her. Perhaps, oh, perhaps Mark had really changedas people said he had. Perhaps he had taken Billy to a baseball gamesomewhere. In New York or many other places that would not seem anunusual thing, she knew, not so much out of the way. Even churchmembers were lenient about these things in the great world. It wouldnot be strange if Mark had grown lax. But here in Sabbath Valley publicopinion on the keeping of the Sabbath day was so strong that it meant agreat deal. It amounted to public disgrace to disregard the ordinaryrules of Sabbath; for in Sabbath Valley working and playing were alikelaid aside for the entire twenty-four hours, the housewives preparedtheir dinner the day before, an unusually good one always, with somedelectable dessert that would keep on ice, and everything as in theolden time was prepared in the home for a real keeping of a day of restand enjoyment of the Lord. Even the children had special pasttimes thatbelonged to that day only, and Marilyn Severn still cherished a box ofwonderful stone blocks that had been her most precious possessions as achild, and had been used for Sabbath amusement. With these blocks shebuilt temples, laid out cities, went through mimic battles of the Bibleuntil every story lived as real as if she had been there. There werethree tiny blocks, one a quarter of a cube which she always calledSaul, and two half the size that were David and Jonathan. So vivid andso happy were those Sunday afternoons with mother and father and theblocks. Sabbath devoted to the pursuance of heavenly things had meantreal joy to Marilyn. The calm and quiet of it were delight. It had beenthe hardest thing about her years in the world that there seemed to beso little Sabbath there. Only by going to her own room and fencingherself away from her friends, could she get any semblance of what hadbeen so dear to her, that feeling of leisure to talk and think aboutChrist, her dearest friend. I grant she was an unusual girl. There isnow and then an unusual girl. We do not always hear about them. Theyare not always beautiful nor gifted. It chanced that Marilyn was allthree.

So she sat and played at her dear organ, played sweet and tender hymns.Played gentle, pleading, throbbing themes that almost spoke their wordsout, as she saw Elder Harricutt leading his file of elders into thesession room which was just behind the organ. She knew that in allprobability there was to be a time of trial for her father, and thatsome poor soul would be mauled over and ground up in the mill ofcriticism, or else some of her father's dearest plans were to be heldup for an unsympathetic discussion. She thanked God for the stronghomely face of Elder Duncannon as he stalked behind the rest with alook of uplift on his worn countenance, and she played on softlythrough another hymn, until suddenly somehow, she became aware that thetwo strangers on the parsonage porch had left their rockers and werecoming slowly across the lawn. The woman's hard silvery laugh rang outand jabbed into the tender hymn she was playing, and she stopped shortin the middle of a phrase, as if the poor thing had been killedinstantly. The organ seemed to hold its breath, and the sudden silencealmost made the little church tremble.

She sat tense, listening, her fingers spread toward the stops to pushthem in and close the organ and be gone before they arrived if theycontemplated coming in, for she had no mind to talk to them just now.Then coldly, harshly out from the cessation of great sound came ElderHarricutt's voice:

"But Brother Severn, supposing that it turns out that Mark Carter is amurderer! You surely would not approve of keeping his name on thechurch roll then, would you? It seems to me that in order to keep thegarments of the bride of Christ clean from soil we should anticipatesuch a happening and show the world that we recognize the character ofthis young man, and that we do not countenance such doings as she hasbeen guilty of. Now, last night, it is positively stated that he andthis person they call Cherry Penning were at the Blue Duck--!"

_Crash!_ The bells!

Lynn had heard so much through the open session-room door, had turned aquick frightened glance and caught the glimpse of two people comingslowly in at the open door of the church peering at her, had made onequick motion which released the bells, and dashed into the first notesthat came to her mind, the old hymn, "Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me, LetMe Hide Myself in Thee!" But instead of playing it tenderly, grandly,as she usually did, with all the sweetness of the years in which saintsand sinners have sung it and found refuge and comfort in its noblelines, she plunged into it with a mad rush as if a soul in mortal perilwere rushing to the Refuge before the gates should be forever closed,or before the enemy should snatch it from the haven. The first noteboomed forth so sharply, so suddenly, that Elder Harricutt jumpedvisibly from his chair, and his gossipy little details were drowned inthe great tone that struck. Behind his hand, the troubled ministersmiled in spite of his worries, to think of the brave young soul behindthose bells defending her own.

Down the aisle just under the tower Opal Verrons paused for an instantstartled, thinking of prison walls, and of the dead man lying atSaybrook Inn that night. Suddenly the words of the telegram flashedacross her: "What disposition do you want made of the body?" The body!The _body!_ Oh! Her eyes grew wide with horror. She ought toanswer that telegram and give them his home address. But why shouldshe? What had she to do with him now? Dead. He was _Dead_. He hadpassed to another world. She shuddered. She looked around and shrankback toward Shafton, but Laurie was wrapt in the vision of SaintCecilia seated at the organ under the single electric light that thejanitor had left burning over her head. She resembled a saint with ahalo more than ever, and his easily excited senses were off chasingthis new flower of fancy.

Behind the organ pipes the session sat with the reputation of a man intheir ruthless fingers, tossing it back and forth, and deliberatingupon their own damning phrases, while the minister sat with stern whiteface, and sought to hold them from taking an action that might brand ahuman soul forever. Marilyn needed no more than those harsh words toknow that her friend of the years was being weighed in the balance.

Many a Sabbath afternoon in his childhood had Mark Carter spent withher playing the stone block play of David and Jonathan, and then eatenbread and milk and apple sauce and sponge cake with her and heard theevening prayers and songs and said good-night with a sweet look of theHeavenly Father's child on his handsome little face. Many a time as anolder boy had he sung hymns with her and listened to her read theBible, and talked it over with her afterward. He had not been like thatwhen she went away. Could he so have changed? And Cherry Fenner! Thelittle girl who had been but ten years old when she went away tocollege, Cherry a precocious little daughter of a tailor in Economy,who came over to take music lessons from her. Cherry at the Blue Duck!And with Mark! Could it be true? It could not be true! Not in the sensethat Mr. Harricutt was trying to make out. Mark might have been there,but never to do wrong. The Blue Duck was a dance hall where liquor wassold on the quiet, and where unspeakable things happened every littlewhile. Oh, it was outrageous! Her fingers made the bells crash out herhorror and disgust, and her appeal to a higher power to right thisdreadful wrong. And then a hopeless sick feeling came over her, awhirling dizzy sensation as if she were going to faint, although shenever fainted. She longed to drop down upon the keys and wail her heartout, but she might not. Those awful words or more like them were goingon behind the organ there, and the door was open--or even if the doorwas not open they could be heard, for the room behind the organ wasonly screened by a heavy curtain! Those two strangers must not hear! Atall costs they must not hear a thing like this! They did not know MarkCarter of course, but at any rate they must not hear! It was likehaving him exposed in the public square for insult. So she played on,growing steadier, and more controlled. If only she could know the rest!Or if only she might steal away then, and lie down and bear it alonefor a little! So this was what had given her father such a white drawnlook during his sermon! She had seen that hard old man go across thelawn to meet him, and this was what he was bringing her father to bear!

But the music itself and the words of the grand old hymns she wasplaying gradually crept into her soul and helped her, so that when thelame stranger made at last his slow progress up to the choir loft andstood beside her she was able to be coolly polite and explain brieflyto him how the organ controlled the action of the bells.

He listened to her, standing in open admiration, his handsome carelessface with its unmistakable look of self indulgence was lighted up withgenuine admiration for the beautiful girl who could play so well, andcould talk equally well about her instrument, quite as if it werenothing at all out of the ordinary run of things that she were doing.

Opal, sitting in the front pew, where she had dropped to wait till herescort should be satisfied, watched him at first discontentedly,turning her eyes to the girl, half wondering, half sneering, till allat once she perceived that the girl was not hearing the hot words ofadmiration poured upon her, was not impressed in the least by the man,did not even seem to know who he was--or care. How strange. What a verystrange girl! And really a beautiful girl, too, she saw, now that hernatural jealousy was for the moment averted. How extremely amusing.Laurie Shafton interested in a girl who didn't care a row of pins abouthim. What a shouting joke! She must take it back to his friends at theshore, who would kid him unmercifully about it. The thing had neverbeen known in his life before. Perhaps, too, she would amuse herself alittle, just as a pastime, by opening the eyes of this village maidento the opportunity she was missing? Why not? Just on the verge of hisdeparture perhaps.

And now, with tender touch, the music grew softer and dropped into thesorrowful melody: